Empty
by hybridbpv
Summary: The aftermath of Vesper meant that Bond was broken. He was devastated. Even self destructive. *contains spoilers for Casino Royale* This is an alternate to Quantum. This is also my first fic, which I have finally gathered the courage to write. Please enjoy and review (if you wish)! xx ps. you guys know that I do not own James Bond. COMPLETED (03/12/12)
1. Mirror Mirror On The Wall

A low groan escaped as James turned in his sleep. It was more like a deep growl though, his dream made him sweat, tense, it drove him to the edge. It drove him _insane_. It has been months since he had a woman. Since _Vesper_. He missed her gravely. It just wasn't right.

James didn't often, no, ever fall for women. Like she said, they were more like disposable pleasures instead of meaningful persist. His charm worked like magic for him. They would fall for him as soon as he entered the room, swoon over him when he smiled, and his touch would melt their insides in its entirety. And of course, he thoroughly enjoyed it - almost like a little personal game: "how fast can I get her to bed?" sort of thing.

All his nightmares were the same. About Vesper. She lies, wet, cold and _motionless _in Italy. Water splashing beside them. The broken pieces of rubble washing up, washing away. Maybe it's her warmth that haunts him. Maybe it's the sight of her dead. Maybe it's the fact that he _loved_ her. He woke up with a gasp. James was drenched in his own sweat, jaw clenched, and his strong hands were in a tight grip. He needs something, someone, to save him from this hell. He slid out of his damp sheets and headed for the toilet.

A husk of a man stared back in the mirror. He felt empty, something was missing. With every pulse of the heart, he was numb, but he still ached. He ached and longed and craved a woman that could challenge him. He wanted someone with wit, a good sense of humour, someone that could meet his match. And he finally found someone who did. But that someone was bound to be hurt, to leave him, to betray him. He knew she did so to protect him, but in the end, there was nothing he could do to protect her. He could still remember looking into her eyes. _Those beautiful eyes_. He looked into her eyes when she was drowning. Her mouth was gaping and all that was separating them was a metal gate. _If I could've been faster_. Bond was only a beat slow to getting her out, to saving her life._ All this pain could've been avoidable. All this time, I could've spent with her_. He couldn't bare the agonising thought and splashed icy water on his face.

Through the torment of endless restless nights, his sky blue eyes were surrounded by red vessels, which the crinkles around his eyes highlighted even more. He had been training - getting his agility up, response quicker, sharper instincts. He wanted to be strong. Not because he could prevent the Vesper incident from happening again, but because he couldn't prevent the Vesper from dying. He beat himself up time and time again, constantly abusing the three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half of Kina Lillet, shaken over ice and with a thin slice of lemon peel. The drink he coined _Vesper_.

To Bond, it seemed that everything about him revolved around her. He could remember the way she smelled, the touch of her skin, her _smile._ His bed was too large for one, too empty. Everything else was in a pair too. As always, there were two sets of toothbrushes and toothpaste, in case he did invite anyone over. Two sinks, two towels, two panels of glass in front of him._ Goddammit, two._

The mirror crumbled with a loud, sharp noise. He had made such contact with it that there were no shards left on the wall, but rather shattered and utterly disintegrated on the floor. He did not wince at the pain. It didn't even come _close_ to the silent suffering in his heart and mind. He was trapped, in misery. He didn't see a way out.


	2. Ghastly, Lifeless, Lonely Blue Eyes

The only singular item around him was his razor blade. It was alone. Much like himself. Much like himself - a tool. The razor was a tool to get rid of the sandy stubble on his face. He, himself, was a tool for MI6. Both were sharp, lethal. Both had been bloodied. Both were dispensable.

After freshening up, Bond treated the wounds on his hand. He didn't really notice all the blood until the shampoo stung the cuts. He sat on his bed with a first aid box, carefully picking out the last shards of glass and dropping them into the bin next to him. The pain from the rubbing alcohol wasn't what he could call "bad" either, he'd be accustomed to pain. MI6 trained him for pain, and he was thankful. If they hadn't, he might've given in to Le Chiffre's act of torture. _People at MI6 are going to notice._ He mumbled to himself, wrapping a clean coiled bandage around his hand.

Driving with one hand didn't really make a difference to James. Through all the fights, all the car chases, it'd become a habit. Heavy droplets of rain splattered loudly on his windshield. James tapped according to the rhythm of the movement of the windshield wiper blades. _Tap_. He stared blankly into space. _Tap-tap. _He had a mission today. M told him about it earlier in the week. _Tap_. Hopefully the bandage on his hand wouldn't get in the way of his work.

"Your hand -" M nodded quizzically as 007 walked into HQ.

"Yes, let's just say it had a little disagreement with the mirror on my bathroom wall," he clenched his teeth and uttered, "unfortunately, unlike my hand, it was utterly dismembered and I'd have to find another one." M raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I do hope you're alright for today."

"Yes, Ma'am." 007 nodded before proceeding to his chair for the briefing.

"Understand?" There was a slight rise in M's voice.

"Yes Ma'am." The agents chanted collectively as they were dismissed. _Bust organisation, rescue all possible hostages, keep as many alive as possible. Collect all documents, search for hidden compartments. The usual stuff. _This was no more of a challenge to Bond as an eagle taking flight. Trying to keep people alive, on the other hand, well… it could be said that he had an overly quick trigger finger.

Bond suited up - bullet proof vest, loaded guns, cargo pants. He ran his hand over the tight spandex shirt. His stomach was more than chiseled. Once again, he found himself staring in the mirror, the man standing before him looked ghastly, blue eyes too bright in comparison to the dull suit. Blonde hair glowing on top of his pale face. Bond had never looked so lifeless before. Not when his parents were gone. Not when he first killed.

M could see it in his eyes. Never had she seen 007 so lost. The lonely child that she took in. The confusion during his first mission. The pain in his training. But never this… Bond was _broken_, maybe even beyond repair. She sighed. She cared for him, a tough love sort of concern, she trusted him. But Bond was to hurt to trust anyone. His charming smile hadn't been seen for months.

After suiting up, 007 re-entered the conference room with his usual grace. Nervous agents exchanged glances and nods. _Time to go._


	3. Double Oh, No Soul

The device attached on the large, heavy metal door beeped slowly. _Beep. Beep._ A tiny red light was visible to Bond from where he was crouching. He braced himself. The light blinked faster, beeping furiously. He mentally counted to three and covered his ears.

The door was simply no match for the explosive. Small, yet effective. Not only did it give way, it practically threw itself into the organisation's den. There were a few men shouting, coughing, and then gunshots were exchanged. Amidst the firing, Bond charged in with his back up. The smoke still hadn't cleared, but he could see silhouettes which made out to be people tied to a pole over their heads. The other silhouettes had a familiar distinct stance. He dodged a passing bullet and heard a man howl in pain behind him.

Swiftly and quickly, he began his attack. Aim, steady, shoot. The first bullet penetrated the smoke and hit the target's left knee square. The second on his right shoulder. _Ah…_ 007 instantly recognised the smell. _Blood._ He smiled secretly to himself.

The smoke gave Bond impeccable camouflage. He was too quick for them to aim at, let alone take a good shot. One by one, the silhouettes fell like dominos, writhing and squirming in pain. This team was much too skilled for amateurs, M had sent a handful of her best agents, along with a double oh's. Double Oh Seven.

James was at his best during battle. There was no place he would rather be. _Except for in Vesper's arms._ When shots fire, his attention would automatically turn to the nearest gun, more often than not his own. His skill and awareness meant that he was natural to his environment. He could finally, but temporarily put down all the weight caused by his past. On the field, he was an agent. Alone - he was himself. At his current state, nothing could delight him more than the smell of blood. It made his adrenaline kick in. Heart pumping. It made his smile.

Vaguely, he was aware that a door had swung back and hit a wall, quick footsteps on a metal surface. Bond looked up and turned to his left. The hinge of the door creaked slightly while he spoke into his earpiece.

"M, do you copy?" His voice raspy from excitement.

"Bo-"

"I'm going after the naughty ones who are trying to get away."

"Well, they're not going to succeed, are they?" M said with a tone of sarcasm.

"Absolutely not," James smirked to himself as he began the chase. "Does that mean I don't have to do the boring sweeping?"

"We'll see how you do." M sighed. M noticed the immediate change of personality. After Vesper, he had become an entirely different person, both during missions and downtimes. His shots had become much sharper, accurate. He also shot where it hurt most, where there was no chance of recovery. He shot where he could watch his victims suffer. His interrogations, too, have become much harsher. He had become merciless.

"My advice would be you drop the weapon now before I dump your body with your buddy there-" James fired his gun. "Oops, seems like you didn't act quick enough." The man screamed and hugged his elbow. Bond had already disarmed him and bashed him against a wall.

"You demon!" The man shouted, pain evident in his voice.

"Uh - however soul-less I am, I wouldn't go as far as calling me a demon." He fired a shot towards his leg. "And let me remind you," he aimed his shot at the ground, each creeping closer and closer to the man's skull. "that you are just a pathetic man, writhing on the floor."

"Son of a bitch." The man whimpered, shaking. "Don't kill me."

Bond fired another shot.


	4. Begging For Mercy

_Sorry this one's a bit short. And a big thank you and shout out to those who have favourited, followed, or reviewed my story. Thank you for your support_

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"I don't quite think that's how you beg for mercy." Bond whispered as he stepped closer to the trembling, bloodied man. The bullet was lodged in the concrete, dust floating around in directly in front of the man's eyes. Bond had extracted yet another wretched yelp from the man, who's eyes were now shut tightly. His shaking was obvious, but Bond showed no pity.

"Pl-p-please." He finally squeaked. Bond kicked him hard in the stomach.

"Please _what_?" He growled lowly, once again aiming his gun at the man's head.

"Please, don't kill me." The man sobbed mutely. "I - I'll tell you everything I know, everything I've heard. Please, just don't hurt me." Bond grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him up.

"If you lie, know that there are better ways I can hurt you."

Bond made his way back down the stairs and into the main room. There were squirming bodies everywhere, plenty of blood, weapons scattered. By now the smoke had dissolved into the surrounding air.

The silhouettes turned out to be girls, tied to a pole above their heads - barely alive. They had been bloodied, tortured, most of them unconscious. Agents busied themselves with freeing them from the knots and ropes. Bond scanned the room. There were several different sized cabinets, locked. But that was easy enough to handle.

Bond shot the lock on the first cabinet. It was no higher than his hip. The lock fell out as the metal dented with a loud pop. He took a quick glance at the files inside. _They may be of use. _Slowly, but eventually, he made his way to the final and largest cabinet. _Blood stains._ He aimed his gun and prepared a shot when suddenly he heard a strangled scream. _A girl's voice._ 007 instantly knelt down and slid the drawer open. A dirty, bloodied, naked girl was inside, sobbing. Her body was tangled in the most uncomfortable position. She was freezing and evidentially horrified. She managed another squeak.

"Please… Please, just end this. Just kill me." She mewled.


	5. Offering

_To make up for the shortness last time... This chapter is much longer. FEELS. FEELS. GET READY FOR SOME FEELS. This will be the last chapter of this story. Sequel will come up. Stay tuned (:_

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MI6 transported all the surviving hostages and members of the organisation back to HQ. The tiny girl was trembling, a large blanket covering her bare, greasy skin. Bond shot a glance at her every once in a while. _Don't look her. Don't repeat your mistake._ He didn't trust himself to trust anyone. _Not even M_.

The clothes were very ill fitting. Too loose for her small body. Her face was pale, brown eyes too large for her bony face. She didn't stop shaking. She fell in and out of staring into space, cold and frightened, sitting in a corner in the dark interrogation room. Bond opened the door quietly and turned on the lights. Her hands came up protectively and covered her head. Her body was curled up in a little ball.

"Making yourself small won't change the fact that I'm in the room with you." Bond said, cooly, as he took long strides towards her and sat himself next to her on the ground. Lifting her hands ever so slightly, she peeped at him through the gap between her arms. _She's hurt, Bond, don't be an asshole._"It's okay now. I won't hurt you, I promise." Bond's voice softened softly as he comforted him. Her large eyes glistened with threatening tears. "What did they do to you? Tell me." She shook her head softly and shut her eyes. "Hey, hey, look at me." Once again, he found himself staring into soft, tearful puppy brown eyes. "They're gone now, no-one can hurt you anymore."

"Are," She sobbed, "Are you sure?" Bond nodded reassuringly.

"You can trust me. Are you hungry? Do you want some water?" She gave him a tiny nod. "I'll be right back."

Bond rushed out of the room, leaned against the corridor wall and took a deep breath and held it in. _No, bloody hell! What the fuck do you think you're doing? _He let out a long sigh. Utterly outraged at himself, he began walking to the pantry. _She is not worth your pity. Do not give her any sympathy. She is only a girl._

But he knew he was lying to himself. He knew that he recognised the look on her face. It was the same look that Vesper had when she was drowning. The same fear, the same desperation. The same look of an entirely lost and broken human being. She had the same look as he had earlier in the morning. Those gentle, frightened eyes. Her soft, pale skin. Her pain and fear resonated with him. He didn't need to second guess.

MI6 had stopped Bond from the actual interrogations, rather, M thought I would be good for her agent to regain the "human" aspect of his life. Unlike everybody else, she knew he was still human. His cold heart, frosted, maybe even burnt from his experiences. But she also knew that would the right kind of warmth, the right kind of push, he may have a chance of being his old self. She knew that he would never be so bold to trust anyone again, he really _had _learnt his lesson.

007 returned to the room and set the luke-warm milk and bread on the table. He promised himself not to go off track. "Come, before the milk gets cold." Bond sat with his back facing the door. The small girl sneaked a look at the food, and then at him. Gradually, she found herself face to face with him. The man that nearly shot her. There was a loud grumble from her stomach. "Please, help yourself." He motioned to the plate and cup.

"Thank you, sir." she whispered, barely audible and she began tearing at the pieces of bread and eating quietly. The more she ate, the more she felt famished, and the faster she would chew and gulp things down. From time to time, she would look up at Bond, and he would give her a tiny smile. Seeing her in such state intrigued him. Despite her hunger and fear, she was still so polite.

Now he could see her clearly, he made a few observations. There were red rope burns on her wrists, bruises too. Her lip was cut and there was a dark mark on her left cheek. And she was still shaking. Slowly, he reached out for her shoulder until there was only a tiny gap between them. She clenched up and stopped all her movements.

"Shh… I'm not going to hurt you." He laid a fingertip gently on her neck. "You're freezing." He walked over to a corner of the wall and pressed a few buttons. A few seconds later, warm air began filling the room. "Is this better?" She nodded. Oddly, there was a piece of bread and half a cup of milk. "You're full?"

"You," she began silently, "you haven't eaten yet." Bond froze for a moment. _This girl, did she just offer me food?_

"No, please. I've eaten already." Bond smiled warmly at her. Her kindness took her by surprise.

As an experienced double oh agent, Bond half expected her to spit at him, to ignore him. And yet this girl, at most in her mid twenties, offered him a piece of bread and milk._ Why? She was tortured, probably completely broken, reduced to… A small child._ _Yes… right now, the last thing she'd need is a complicated situation. Break it down for her._

"Thank you for offering, not many people do that." He muttered.

"What do… people normally do?" She reached for the milk and gulped it down. The milk left a white moustache on her upper lip, Bond couldn't help but giggle. "Wh-what?"

"You have a milkstache." Bond said gently and pointed to his own mouth. She quickly wiped it off with the cuff of her clothes. "That's better."

"Thank you for the food… Mister…" She gave him a slight smile.

"Bond. James Bond." He nodded. "And your name?"

"I… I don't remember."

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Again, thank you for reading. Please keep supporting my works. A sequel will come out shortly (: Much love and thanks, hybrid, signing off. xx


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